PS I Miss You
by notresponsibility
Summary: We never really see how Sodapop Curtis deals with the events of the Outsiders. Or more accurately, one that affects only him... Rated T for mild language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello folks! First fanfic here! -pops champagne bottle* Much W00tness.

So… yeah. This just came to me one day. I have no idea why.

Thanks to my friend for being my unofficial editor! You know who you are…

**Disclaimer:** Why do we even have to put these things anyway? Do lawyers just sit at their computers and browse for fanfics that don't have disclaimers? Ah well... For all you lawyers out there, I do not own the Outsiders.

Flames will be taken into consideration and/or laughed at.

Okay. Let's see if this works.

* * *

_She's gone._ I thought if I kept repeating it to myself, it might start to make more sense. _She's gone. And she's not coming back. Just believe it._

Why did she have to go?

Sometimes it was so easy to convince myself that she was just in the other room, or that she was at her place and I'd call her once I got off work. And sometimes, usually late at night, the truth of it would hit me like a punch to the gut. And I've taken enough of those to know that physical pain hurts much less than the mental kind.

Especially if you love them.

Especially if they return your letter unopened.

And especially if they're a girl named Sandy.

Yeah, I know I was sixteen and she was barely seventeen, but so what? What I told Ponyboy all those nights ago was the truth. I was in love, love damn it, and it was the greatest feeling in the world.

That's right. I said _was._

When that damn letter came back to me, it was like I'd hit rock bottom and then somebody had thrown me a shovel. Times a billion. There are simply no words to describe it. Add that onto the fact that Johnny and Dallas were dead it just, well, it put me in a daze. You could've put a gun to my head and I wouldn't have reacted, because in a way I was already dead.

What really killed me, though, was that I knew Pony was going through the same thing. That kid was lucky if he came home with both shoes on his feet. I dropped out because I was honestly dumb- so I didn't have much of a mind left to lose anyway, y'know? But Pony was smart. Couldn't afford to live in a vacuum. The only times he would react to _anything_ was when he and Darry started fighting again. And one day I just sort of lost it- yelled at both of 'em for making me feel worse than I did already.

But they didn't know the whole story. Everyone in the gang was hurting about Johnny and Dally, but they didn't realized I still felt as bad as I did about… her. I let 'em go on not knowing, too. Why should they worry about me?

I realized something, though. I'd often told Sandy about how I'd do anything for her. Anything, as long as she was happy. And if moving away and breaking it off with me was what made her happy… then so be it.

Because that's what you do for someone you love.

And if she was happy, than I was happy.

But what I'd written at the bottom of my letter still floated before my eyes.

_P.S. I miss you._

_

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_

A/N2: Well. I'm sorry if that sucked and you now want to beat me with a cheese grater. But if you do want to beat me with a cheese grater, please do so mentally- it will save everyone a lot of time and money.

(Kudos goes to St. Fang of Boredom, because I stole her cheese grater bit. I hope she's not mad at me…)

And now, if it's not too much trouble… click that little button down there and tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Well, this was originally just going to be a oneshot, but then I actually got an idea, and I figured, "What the heck, I'll make it a short story."

Anybody else doing NaNoWriMo this year? I'm trying to write one, but I have absolutely zero creativity to come up with my own plot. Which is why I write Fan Fiction. It's a hell of a lot easier…

Anyway.

As always, many many thanks to my friend who takes the time to turn what I write into something that faintly resembles actual English.

Oh yeah, almost forgot:

**Disclaimer of the Disclaimer dynasty: **I own nothing…. Although I have a feeling that you wouldn't want to sue me anyway….

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In our house, you're never sure who you're going to see sitting on the couch in the morning. And usually they never scare you half to death, but something tells me that day was just not my best.

When I walked into my living room, I was sort of focused only on buttoning up my shirt. So when I heard someone move from the couch, I didn't think, I only acted. Basically by grabbing something to throw and turning toward… whoever.

Steve moved the newspaper away from his face and looked at me with an annoyed expression. "Put down the damn lamp, Soda."

I sighed in relief and put down the damn lamp. Then I sat down next to my friend and grudgingly apologized. "Sorry, man. I guess I just haven't been myself lately."

"You think?" he said. "I know you're usually up before the others, but you never tried to attack me before." He folded up his newspaper and stood up. "That's actually why I came to talk to you."

A word to the wise: when Steve Randle says, "I want to talk to you," most of the time, that means, "Run as fast as you can in the other direction and hope he doesn't find you."

Steve didn't beat around the bush, either. "You need to stop worrying about Sandy. I'm not no doctor, but I got a feeling it ain't healthy."

I sighed and dropped my head into my hands, defeated. Maybe a few people _had_ figured it out, after all. "It's not that easy, Steve."

"I didn't say anything about easy."

My head shot up. I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but I knew already I didn't like it.

His voice laced with venom, he continued, "We've all been through some bad break-ups, man. Well, maybe not Pony, but you get the idea. You know they're never the end of the world. You _know_ it's possible to get back up again. And- and I don't know what else, but… At what point do you decide maybe you've had enough?"

A pause.

"And at what point do you decide maybe she's not the one for you?"

I stood and whammed him in the stomach.

"I wanted to marry her, Steve."

My friend was, amazingly, still standing, grimacing in pain and trying not to swear too badly. I guessed I respected him for that. Anyone who can stand a punch from a well-trained greaser has guts. However, that all disappeared in a flash of red when he finally muttered, "You _wanted_ to…?"

I hauled back and hit him again. "You really don't get it, do you? _No one_ has ever made me feel the way I do about her- the way I've always felt about her! But maybe that's just 'cause _you've_ never loved _anyone!_ You have no idea and you never will! You dig, Stevie boy?"

"_Don't call me that!"_

Then-

"Why are you guys yelling? It's five thirty in the morning!"

I saw Steve's eyes widen. Here we were, about ready to rip each other's throats out, and acting like we'd been caught skipping school or something. I turned around to face my older brother and said, "Sorry, Darry. It's nothing."

From behind me, I heard Steve murmur, "Damn. That would've been intense."

The look Darry gave him made it perfectly clear that it was time for him to go. But the second the door swung shut behind him, my brother rounded on my again. "So what _was_ that all about?"

"I told you, it was nothing." Somehow, I managed to keep my voice steady.

And the really bad thing?

A part of me really wanted to tell him, just to let it all out.

But another part of me just wanted to forget about it all.

She took me for all I was worth.

Might I remind you, that ain't much at all.

* * *

A/N2: GAH! For some unexplainable reason, the ability to write longer chapters is beyond me.

But now for something totally different and unrelated:

I am going to do a little bit of unauthorized advertising here about Project PULL, which is the awesome idea of someone on Fan Fiction named bookaholic711. I won't write all of the rules out here, (you can go to their profile for that) but basically it's a challenge to post something every other Friday from 8/19/10 to 8/19/11. A whole year. (All you have to do to enter is send them a PM.) So I'm going to start picking up the pace here, assuming my schoolwork doesn't overwhelm me. Damn you Spanish class and your funness which is the only reason I keep going….

The basic idea of Project PULL (which stands for Push Ur Limits and Learn) is to power through it so that in a year, you can look back and say "I did it."

Bookaholic711, if you happen to be reading this: You are awesome for thinking of this idea in the first place.

St. Fang of Boredom, if _you _happen to be reading this: You are awesome for writing a chapter in your Poetry Corner telling us about it.

And now, I shall commence the age-old tradition among Fan Fiction writers: The asking of the reviewers to do your job and review already!

¡Gracias!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: If you happen to catch the Rise Against lyrics in here, I will deeply love you for a long time. (I don't own, by the way.)**

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Dear Soda,

I don't know if I'll ever really get around to sending this, but I'm still going to write as if I'm talking to you. It helps me think that maybe you're not so far away, after all. Even though I know you are, but I can't think that way.

Because the thing is, Soda, I never wanted to leave. You have to trust me on this. I wanted to be with you, to have a life with you in it. I still do. But my parents… not so much. Said I was too young to be thinking that way and I needed to clear my head. So they just up and left and they're my _parents, _what was I really supposed to do? Even if they hadn't dragged me along with them, I probably still would've gone. Even if it meant my visions of a future with you vanished in an instant.

It doesn't change how I feel about you. It never will. And who knows? Maybe in a couple of years, we _could_ have a life together. I could show you that the world isn't only full of pain. Maybe I will prove my parents wrong. They've made me determined to. But I need to get out of school first, and out of this god-forsaken town, too. It's horrible here. The food is weird, the people have really strange accents, and the weather, well, I can best describe it as bipolar. Half the time it's really cold and windy, the other half it's hot and humid and sort of sticky. And every day when I wake up, there's always one second where I forget where I am, and I think I'm back in Tulsa and I'll get to see you and Pony and the rest- and then I'm completely crushed when I realize that I'm still trapped here like a bird in a cage, away from everything that I know and remember. And love.

Sometimes, I think I live for that one moment when I delude myself that everything's the way it should be.

I swear, one of these days, I'll finally get out of this place and I'll get back to Tulsa. Back to you. And if you're not there, I'll search every state of America until I find you. I won't let anyone get in my way.

But, I have to believe you're there. You couldn't just be… gone. It's where you belong. It's where _I _belong.

I haven't told anyone about you, or about anything. Maybe I should. Maybe I shouldn't. Part of me thinks that no one would believe me, because let's face it, not everyone has names like Sodapop or Ponyboy, but I also think that it would just be too painful. I'm sitting here crying just writing a letter that you're probably never going to read, so who knows what might happen if I actually started _talking_ about anything. As much as I hate this place, I don't want anyone thinking I'm crazy either, when I start raving about some redneck little town and greasers and Socs and _you-_ it'd just be too much to bear. Feels like I've been here so long already…

The only thing keeping me together is the hope that this won't last forever, and I won't have to keep these secrets from everyone anymore. It's the only thing keeping me going. The only thing that keeps me from pulling the covers over my head and shutting everything out and hoping to sleep, because when I'm asleep, at least there's the possibility of a good dream.

Who am I kidding? All I've ever done is live on front porches and swing life away. I don't know how I'll get back. With all this talk, I don't know if I'm getting closer or just getting more lost, because I'm still stuck here, and memories are like paper wings. They won't bring me back to you. All they do is make it more painful, so far from you. They make me smile, thinking of so many good times, but it reminds me that, however pleasant they were, these good times are past, and life doesn't afford enough time to be so nostalgic.

I'm not sure if it's better to reflect on the good times, or to carry on and avoid looking back at what you've done and live in the moment. Never been sure. I guess it depends on what your memories are.

Now that I think about it, I'm actually just scared. I'm scared that I'm never going to see you again, or that when I do find you, you won't be the same person I fell in love with, or that I won't be the person _you _fell in love with. Or maybe that you never did love me, not really. I'm worried that everything was just based on my own stupidity, my own unrealistic expectations of love.

But I still wouldn't trade my memories of you for the world.

And I can't wait for the day when it's not all just talk. For when life has more purpose than "Get up, survive, go back to sleep." For when I'm not so unsure and paranoid. For when it doesn't hurt so bad.

I'm sitting here writing a letter that no one will ever see, that contains my own secrets and fears. Contains my own personal reason for living that, deep down, I think I always knew was there. And I don't want anyone to see it. My letter is addressed to you, but I think I wrote it for myself. It all becomes so deceptively simple when it's written out, in ways that another person could understand. But then again, would you want someone else to understand, after all? Some things are better left alone. Sometimes, there's just too much wrong with the world, that our secrets get lost.

Lost. But not forgotten. Just like I won't ever forget you.

Goodbye, Soda.

I miss you.

All my love,

Sandy

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**A/N2: Merry Christmas, y'all! ****(I know, I'm _really, really_ white. STFU. :/)**

**Review!**


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